We've Still Got Time
by savagepierce
Summary: A oneshot flashback to a sleepover between Emily & Alison. Parallels the one that occurs in season 5, a gentler and somewhat easier time before Emily has revealed her feelings for Ali.


One of the most appealing things about Alison Dilaurentis was how she could conjure up the essence of malevolence beneath layers of honeyed hair and perfectly bow-shaped lips. She was a vision in gold but if you pricked her she oozed a strong, vibrant scarlet, as if she was disconnected from the sheer mendacity of being _human._

Emily had never believed Alison was one hundred percent mortal, she exuded too much **energy**; a life force that didn't come from this realm. A whiff of her Marc Jacobs perfume was enough to make her head swim with dizzying visions of soft skin sliding across her bed sheets, she was utterly intoxicating.

"Earth to Fields, you're _drooling_ over there."

Blinking hard, the brunette swimmer jerked her line of vision back towards the blonde sitting across from her.

"What were you thinking about, Em?" Alison cast her a knowing smile, sweet like melt-in-your-mouth candy, yet edgy like a shark tooth

"Hm? Oh, nothing I just lost my train of thought." Uneasiness disassembled her almost grin. Alison fixated on her with a harsh, ambiguous stare and Emily gulped instinctively, looking around desperately to find a subject change. "We should probably get started cutting out these patterns Ali. We still have about sixty snowflakes to make if we want to be done in time for the dance tomorrow."

"I know that. Maybe _you_ should stop daydreaming and get to it." The smile was back, cutting and teasing and always so knowing. She held out a pair of scissors for Emily to take. Sometimes she wondered if Alison could see clear into her head. Subconsciously she ran a hand through her raven locks, as if she might find a window to her thoughts sitting there.

"I wasn't daydreaming." She rolled her eyes half-heartedly, the lie felt flat on her tongue and she knew Alison would see straight through it. A master could recognize someone that floundered at the task she herself had so expertly designed.

"Whatever you say. You know you can tell me anything right? That's what friends are for. To talk to one another about things that might be…uncomfortable." Bulbous blue eyes seemed to bore into her. A sticky sweat crept down her neck.

"Of course I know that Ali."

She didn't dignify her with a retort, just a smirk before returning to her work finishing off a decoration. Glitter danced along the alabaster skin just beneath her wrist. It felt almost…intimate, to see that part revealed, so fleshy and vulnerable, shimmering with various shades of silver. Emily longed to wrap her hand around Alison's wrist, to hold her hand and keep her close, if even for a moment. Instead she tried to fixate herself on the project at hand. Cutting with excruciating detail along the stencil outlines. Hers still didn't look as effortless and perfect as Alison's, no one's ever did.

They worked steadily for about an hour, silence punctuated only by Alison commenting on some of the Rosewood gossip, Emily chipping in where she could – or being the moral compass when necessary.

Ali had never seemed interested in a rating of her morality. She seemed to dwell in the grays, the spaces between the tick marks.

Finally, there was a clunk as Alison tossed aside her scissors and began putting things away. "That's enough for tonight."

Stilling her motions of pasting together a piece of paper she'd torn, brows knitted at the sudden dismissal. "Might as well throw that one away Emily. **_Im_** running this dance, not one of those oafish freshmen, which means it all has to be perfect. We can't have poorly made decorations. Now come on, we _both_ need a full nights rest."

Alison wasn't normally a huge proponent of school spirit, but she'd mainly taken on the task for manning the winter dance committee because Jenna had done it the year before, which meant Alison had to one-up her. Ten-up her, more like. Everything was a battlefield and she was a primed war strategist. After everything had been dissembled and put away, Alison stripped off her clothes and changed right there. Emily felt her breath catch in her throat, a warm flush filling in her cheeks as if she'd touched an open flame. This had become a habit, Alison taunting her with unsaid feelings, doing things that were bold and brazen just to unsettle her; to drag out those taut words caked into the interior of her mouth. As of yet, Emily hadn't given in but the desire to reach out and touch the small of her back was making her fingers twitch.

Instead, she turned away and changed into her own pajamas as quickly as she could. "Sleep in my bed tonight Em, it's chilly out." Musicality brigaded from her, she acted as if there was no suspect motivation behind that chiming invitation, just slid beneath silk sheets and patted the spot beside her entrancingly.

Hesitation was the only credible option. Lingering towards the bed, the mattress pushing ridges into her toned thighs. Alison eyes glistened in the darkness, a mystery wrapped in a magenta quilt. Eventually she decided to throw caution to the wind and slid into the bed beside her, still a question remained on her lips. Baffled by the warmth of cascading golden curls along the pillow beside her. Supple curves within finger-length reach. Her breathing was harsh and partially stammered. Emily rolled on her back and shut her eyes softly to sustain herself. She wasn't accustomed to this, her heart a maniacally fluttering butterfly.

Cold fingers brushed against hers, interlacing slowly beneath the blankets, Alison had inched closer to her in the stoic silence. "Goodnight, Emily." Murmuring a soft melody, she pressed a kiss to her crown. Emily's mouth went achingly dry. She tensed immediately, afraid to move, terrified to even twitch for it might end the moment.

They both lay like that for some time, limbs hardly intertwined and yet the affection was enough to make her hot all over she thought she might catch aflame.

Her love was a careening bullet train, unstoppable, incredible, and she was frightened of where it might end. Yet in that moment, she could only close her eyes and eschew a stuttered breath of air, heart finally beginning to slow as her cheek fell against the top of flaxen hair.

"Goodnight Alison."


End file.
